Highland Spy

by Madeline Martin

This.

  This was what he wanted.

  Whether it came in the form of rage or sadness, he wanted something more than her acquiescent indifference, a break from her maddening apathy.

  And judging from the flush creeping over her cheeks, he was finally about to get it.

  Chapter 34

  That Connor wanted Ariana to give voice to what he should have guessed was almost more than she could stand. The hurt and anger in Ariana swelled hot in the back of her throat and burned at her eyes.

  “You know why I want to leave.” She threw the words at Connor like a dagger.

  He folded his arms over his chest. Ever the stubborn one. “I’m almost certain I do, but I want to hear ye say it.”

  She clutched the plaid he’d given her more tightly over her shoulders. The fabric hugged her skin. While she had been almost offended when he’d first given her the plaid, she was grateful for it now.

  Even if he was being a cur.

  “You’re cruel to make me say it.” Emotion welled in her, approaching with the certainty of a thunderstorm, roiling and darkening.

  “Ye’re angry with me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I am.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “Why would you make me do this?”

  The patient calm of his face bled into one of pain. “Because I want to see some emotion from ye. I canna stand this indifferent front ye’ve been offering. This isna the Ariana I know.”

  The tether on all things civil and polite in her snapped. “This is the Ariana my life has made me. Am I mad at you? Yes.” She stabbed a finger into his chest. “You’re just like everyone else in my life. Like my parents who never cared for me beyond what my marriage could bring them, like my brother who tucked me away like a toy he no longer played with.”

  The words were flying from her mouth with an edge of vehemence. Not only could she not stop them, she also didn’t want to.

  “All my life, I’ve done what I’m supposed to. I’ve followed the rules and I’ve tried so…” The rage quivered through her muscles and she balled her fists to keep it from exploding out of her. “I’ve tried so damn hard. I wanted nothing more than to make them happy, to make you happy. To…”

  The words died on her lips, melted by the hurt of what she’d almost said.

  “To what?” Connor pressed.

  The ache in her throat was unbearable and the warmth in her eyes spilled down her cheeks. She looked away, unable to meet his gaze when she finally answered. “To be loved. By them. By you.”

  The confession shattered her heart and suddenly it hurt to even breathe.

  Connor stepped forward and his arms came around her, warm and strong and secure. She fell against his chest and gave in to the fiery pain of her heart breaking.

  “I’m sorry.” He spoke softly against her ear.

  But his words brought no comfort. Sorry was not love, and the apology only made the pain scrape that much deeper.

  Where a moment prior the release of her tears had been a much-needed reprieve, it now was unbearably intimate. She straightened and swiped at her eyes.

  Her face felt hot and sticky and her head throbbed from having cried. She wanted to duck beneath the veil of her hair and hide from him.

  No woman ever looked beautiful after crying—she was no exception. Looking thus in front of Connor only rubbed salt into her raw wound.

  He nudged the underside of her chin up with his forefinger and tilted her face so she was looking at him. She tried to look away, but he guided her back with his thumb. “It’s my turn to confess to ye.”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t hear his reasons again. Not when she knew too well why he couldn’t be with her. Hearing them again would not assuage her pain. It would only serve as a reminder. A prodding of an unhealed wound.

  “That wasn’t part of the deal,” she whispered.

  He smoothed the hair from her face with his large hand. His palms were cool against her temple. She wanted to close her eyes and let his calming hands soothe away the heat and the ache of her head.

  But she needed to keep her resolve strong if she intended to leave.

  And she did intend to leave.

  “Ariana, I—”

  She gave him a sharp look and shook her head. “You were promised a final kiss only.”

  “Aye, ye’re right.” He took her face in his hands and stared down at her for a long moment, as if he meant to trace every line into his memory.

  Or perhaps she was romanticizing the moment and wishing that was what he did.

  His warm lips came down on hers, so softly she almost did not feel the touch. It was too delicate a kiss. Too tender.

  She wanted something final and fast.

  The spicy scent of him spun around her like a spell, teasing out memories best left forgotten and coaxing her body to respond.

  She lifted her face without meaning to do so.

  She didn’t want this sweetness. She wanted to feel the kind of hard kiss that would scrape her teeth against her lips and flare into a blind passion in which she could lose herself.

  But his kiss remained tender, loving.

  Dangerous.

  His tongue brushed her bottom lip and finally, finally, he pulled away. He looked so deeply into her eyes, she felt as if he were brushing her soul. There was something deep in the way he gazed at her, something powerful enough to squeeze her heart. “Ariana, I love ye.”

  His words plunged her from a languid state into the cold shock of awareness. “What?”

  He stroked her cheek. “I love the way ye laugh and how it makes me feel.” His lips pressed against her cheek, warm and firm.

  She stayed silent, wanting to believe and yet fearful to do so.

  “I love yer determination and how ye accomplish things most others canna.” He kissed her forehead.

  “I love that ye’re able to love others, despite yer own hurt. Despite yer determination not to.” His mouth brushed the tip of her nose.

  A ridiculous kiss.

  Ariana leaned her head away from him and gave what felt like an awkward smile. “I believe I told you one kiss.”

  He held her face in her hands and didn’t let her turn away from him. “And I love how damn stubborn ye are.”

  His mouth came down on hers, once more tender and sweet.

  And while no less dangerous, this time she did not fight it.

  His tongue swept across her bottom lip and she let her mouth part open. Connor groaned and deepened their kiss. His hands slid over her body, underneath the plaid to her waist.

  The coolness of his palms seeped through the thin fabric of her sark and was like heaven against the heat of her skin.

  Connor administered kisses down her jaw to the place just below her ear, where his lips made prickles of pleasure dance down her spine. “I dinna think I deserved ye.” He kissed her there once more before letting his mouth slide lower.

  “And do you think you do now?” She pushed him back slightly and stared up at him. His mouth was pink from their kisses and his hair was slightly mussed.

  “No.” His gaze was dark with tortured honesty. “But I canna stand the thought of no’ having ye in my life.”

  His mouth came down on hers with the fierceness she’d wanted earlier, though for an entirely different reason.

  Then she’d wanted it to erase the tenderness of his touch. Now she wanted it to sate the desire raging through her, the one wanting to touch all of him, the one wanting to claim and be claimed.

  “I love ye, Ariana.” His declaration was growled between their lips. He pulled back and stroked her face with a trembling finger. “I’ve no’ anything to offer ye but my love and a dark past. I promise ye, everything I am, everything I have, is yers.”

  His words fell on her ears like a sweet melody and poured golden hope into her heart, sealing off the sting of pain.

  He searched her gaze with his hazel eyes and once more she found herself studying the flecks of green and black in them. “Say ye’ll
stay.”

  Everything in her arched toward him the way flowers bend toward the sun. “Yes,” she said with finality. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

  • • •

  After all this time, after all the torment he’d inflicted upon them both, Connor had Ariana.

  The skin beneath her sark was warm against his hands, her words a soft breathy note in his ears, the touch of her lips sweet honey on his mouth—and yet he almost did not believe any of it for wanting it so badly.

  She would stay.

  She would be his.

  The desperation pumping in his chest shifted then, from the desire to persuade to the desire to possess—to claim what was his.

  Ariana must have felt it too, for her kisses became greedier, bolder—a flick of the tongue, a tug of her teeth across his lower lip, the tease of her fingers along his lower stomach.

  Connor gave a low, hungry growl and pulled her against him.

  He remembered his painful desire for her at Urquhart—it was nothing compared to the desire to reclaim what he’d once had and too quickly lost. It thundered in his veins with a force he could not, and would not, deny.

  Her body was all firm curves beneath the crumpled fabric of her sark. The plaid she’d clung so tightly around her fell away in a wisp of tartan—a barrier willingly dropped.

  Only one more stood in his way.

  He tugged on the voluminous undergarment. Up, up, up, until her shapely legs appeared, the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist and swell of her breasts, and then her beautiful face. Her eyes were full of the quiet adoration they’d once held when regarding him.

  His body ached for release, but he refused to succumb to the blatant desire as he had last time.

  This time would be different.

  Connor let his gaze wash over her, claiming her first with his eyes. He wanted to touch every part of her with every part of him, his hands and mouth and tongue, until he was so overwhelmed he fell to his knees before her. His fingertips drifted over her smooth shoulders and down to the swell of her breasts, where the pink nipples stood tight and eager.

  He glanced up at her face to see her watching him in quiet study beneath heavy-lidded eyes, and let his fingertip drag across her nipple. She drew in a soft breath and drew her tongue over her lips.

  Taste.

  He wanted to taste her.

  Slowly and purposefully, he leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue along the underside of her breast before moving upward toward her nipple. A graze, a tease.

  Her whimper told him she’d enjoyed it, and his cock lurched in greedy reflex.

  He wrapped his right arm around her bottom and tugged her closer, so the flat of her belly lay against his chest.

  And her breast was directly in front of his mouth. He opened his lips and drew in one pert little bud.

  Ariana gave a soft moan. Her hips rolled forward against him, her body acting on instinct.

  With flick after deliberate flick, he coaxed several more moans from her before switching to her other breast. Her hands found his shoulders and her fingers clung to him.

  “Please, Connor…” She spoke in a breathless voice, and he knew she would be slick and ready were he to graze a finger between her legs.

  Only it wouldn’t be his finger.

  He released his hold on her until her back touched the wall and he could see she was supported.

  His breath came deep and ragged with his low level of control. Everything in him wanted to rip off his kilt and shove himself inside her like some rutting brute.

  He felt near to exploding and she had yet to even touch him.

  Not yet.

  Not yet.

  The words became a chant in his head, repeated over and over as a reminder.

  He released her nipple and kissed lower down her stomach, past her navel to the slight thatch of hair between her narrow thighs.

  Her legs parted instinctively, and before she could offer a modest protest, he closed his mouth over the sweet mound, parting her with his tongue.

  She gave a shocked gasp and her body flinched. But she did not pull away.

  Connor curled his tongue inside her where she was wet with wanting. The heady scent of her arousal filled him with a lust so powerful, it threatened all reason from his mind.

  She was sweet under his tongue, an intoxicating fruit he could not cease savoring. He eased his tongue forward until he found the swollen bud of her pleasure.

  Her cries turned husky.

  He wanted to hear those cries become screams. The slow, delicate strokes of his tongue flicked faster against the core of her desire.

  Ariana’s hands on his shoulders turned into iron clamps, her fingers digging into the skin there. Her thighs tightened and a whimper came out of her.

  Suddenly she gasped and gave a surprised cry. She clutched him with her hands, pulling him more tightly against her. Lust pounded in his temples and throbbed at his cock, leaving him blind to all else but the woman he pleased.

  And how badly he wanted her.

  He rose in front of her and pulled the heavy belt from his plaid. It landed on the ground with a metallic clunk. The plaid easily fell away, leaving him as naked as she.

  He braced a hand on either side of her head.

  Her eyes sparkled bright with the glow of her release and her cheeks and lips were red. His body pressed to the soft heat of hers and her hips immediately arched toward him in mutual longing.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  It was all he needed.

  He grasped her thighs with his hands and lifted her against the wall with her legs spread before sheathing himself inside of her wet heat.

  A cry of pleasure rasped in his throat. She was even tighter than he remembered, hot and slick—so, so slick.

  Her strong legs wrapped around him and her arms curled about his neck.

  He drew out and flexed forward, deeper inside her. She gave a long, low moan. In the back of his mind, he registered how the rough wall behind her bit into his palms.

  He cupped her buttocks and lifted her away from the scraping wall. The slight shift caused her to glide and tighten against his cock. He turned with her in his arms, still inside her, and took the three steps to the bed before lowering them both onto it.

  Ariana rolled her hips against his and a wave of pleasure tingled through him.

  He braced himself on either side of her, the heels of his hands sinking into the bedding, and thrust into her. She threw her head back with a moan and moved her hips in time with his own desperate pumps.

  He arched his back, leaning above her as he took her, watching the pleasure play on her face and how her firm breasts gave a little bounce with each thrust.

  The pleasure coiled inside him, tight and hot and so damn close.

  He lay atop her and buried his face in the perfume of her hair right as the world around him exploded in his release.

  Everything swam white for a second with each pulsing throb of pure ecstasy. Her own cries sounded in his ears and the telltale squeeze of her around his cock told him she’d reached her own climax again.

  They lay together, quiet and still, with only their rapidly beating hearts and strained breath to fill the silence, but the quiet did not carry with it the awkward discomfort it had of late. It was familiar. Comfortable.

  Intimate.

  Connor threaded his fingers through Ariana’s small ones. Her skin was soft beneath his touch, exquisite. He loved their closeness. He loved being able to touch her again, kiss her again.

  She smiled up at him the way she had once before, glowing with affection, and it left him near breathless with its impact.

  “Ye’re beautiful, Ariana,” he said. And truly she was. Powerful yet feminine, strong yet kind, stubborn yet forgiving.

  “I love ye.” Last time he had said it out of desperation for her to remain. This time he said it with the whole of his heart.

  The coolness of her blue-green eyes had melted to something warm and tender. S
he looked up at him now with all those lovely qualities shining like the most exquisite of gems. “I love you too, Connor Grant.”

  To hear the admission of her own heartfelt affection, to know he was loved by so wonderful a woman as Ariana Fitzroy, eased some of his burden.

  Later, when they’d lain on the small mattress, twisted in the warmth of one another, there was a peace in his mind he had not known in some time. His people were alive and well, he would be meeting with Kenneth the following day to finally uncover a truth too long left untold, and he had Ariana.

  But before sleep could cradle him, a realization crept into his mind the way a sliver of cold air seeps down the back of a jacket on a particularly bitter night.

  Ariana had overlooked a lot of his sins to love him, and while he knew she was able to fend for herself, he couldn’t stop thinking of all those he’d wronged—of all the faces of those he’d killed and their families, who would be vengeful.

  Connor had enemies—rival clans, families of those he’d killed in battle. He’d have many more if it ever came out who he’d killed in his service to the king. Ariana would now have those same enemies.

  In allowing himself to love her, he made her vulnerable.

  She’d asked if he deserved her now. And he knew with all certainty, he did not.

  He only hoped it would not be Ariana who would pay the price of his sins.

  Chapter 35

  After three long years, Connor would finally have answers.

  He had arrived early at the fountain near the small stone church where he’d promised to meet Kenneth. He’d not told Ariana of the fears keeping sleep at bay. Instead he’d let her sweetness ease the concern from his mind and he’d left her in their rented room.

  “Connor.” The rich note of male authority in the voice identified its owner before Connor even turned.

  In the daylight, Kenneth did not appear as worn-out by the hardships of power. Aside from the white sifting through his temples, the lines of his face seemed to have softened in the soft gray light of a coming storm.

  Silence settled between them, not awkward, yet not quite comfortable either.

  Connor searched his mind for something to say, but it was Kenneth who finally spoke. “I know ye’re angry with me and I dinna blame ye for that. But ye have to know I tried to stop him.”